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There once was a time when my father and I were inseperable. My mother died when I was really young, so I barely even remember her. Looking at an old photo of her does not conjure any feelings of warmth or familiarity. It feels more like I’m looking at a stranger.

Ever since her death, my father has been raising me all by himself. He used to be a great dad; we basically did everything together. He also was super gentle, we were hugging and cuddling all the time. It was like we were superglued to each other. I especially loved the tickle fights we used to have when I was a child. By the end, my whole face would hurt from all the laughing.

But things changed around the time I hit puberty. Most of it was your usual teenage rebellion. Like every kid my age I wanted to establish an identity separate from my parent. So I dyed my naturally blonde hair pitch-black and really got into the goth scene. I just loved everything about it: the music, the aesthetic, and how perfectly it expressed my innermost feelings at the time. I started wearing black eyeliner, black nailpolish, black lipstick—the whole nine yards. I even wore chockers basically twenty-four seven. No more bright pink colors, no more “Daddy’s little girl”. I ran as far away from that as I possibly could.

This was also when my father started looking at me differently, which made me feel uneasy. And in response, I started looking at him differently. It seemed like he was not my rock anymore that I could hold onto when I felt most insecure. And as time went on he seemed to let himself go more and more. Maybe the grief of losing his wife, that he so bravely fought through initially, finally caught up to him. Eventually I came to see him as the normal, mortal man that he was. Gone was the halo surrounding the hero of my childhood. And gone was my knight in shiny armor protecting me from all the evil in the world.

During most of my teenage years my chest was really flat. I dressed as provocatively as I could, trying to show off what I didn’t have, as I felt that it went hand-in-hand with being a goth. But as I got older, I mellowed a bit on that whole thing, although I still like dyeing my hair black. Surprisingly, a year and a half ago I hit another growth spurt and my breasts basically exploded in size, so that now, at age nineteen, I have the full set of breasts that I wish I had when I was younger.

I still like to flaunt my assets when I am out partying with my friends, especially since I now have more to show for. I guess in some ways a part deep inside of me is still stuck in her teenage-rebellion phase. But at home I am all covered up. I only wear baggy clothes like sweaters and sweatpants, because I just do not want my father to see me like this. If his looks made me feel uneasy before, by now they started to creep me out.

The way he has been leering at me over the years has really soured our relationship, so much so that I loathe every second that I’m around him. He often complains that I’m always scowling at him, but at the same time he seems completely unaware of his own behavior. I long for the day when I am finally able to move out. I always wanted to be gone by the time I was eighteen, but I also wanted to go to college. Even though I am attending a local community college, it still cut into my savings. So I made the decision to just grin and bear it for a few more years.

Somehow all of these thoughts were swirling through my head, while I sat alone in my room, scrolling on my phone. Then there was a knock on my door. “What?” I yelled. “Claire Bear, sweety, it’s me.” Ugh, I hate it when he calls me that. “What do you want?” I said irritated. “Can you open up? I just wanna talk real quick.” Annoyed I stomped across my room.

“What is i—” As soon as I opened the door a waft of my father’s unwashed stench smacked me square in the face. The faint smell of a cheap cologne followed it like a bad aftertaste. When I looked up at his unshaven face, I saw his lips moving but I could only hear silence. Then the silence was pierced by a ringing in my ears and my mind turned cloudy. My eyes glazed over and I just stared blankly at my Dad.

Yes, my Dad. He was finally back. As I kept looking at him, the dirty old creep in front of me was slowly replaced with the shining image of my Daddy that I knew and loved growing up. Yes, my Daddy was finally back. My God, how I’ve missed him. He is finally all mine again. And I am all his. Pure bliss spread throughout my body as these thoughts filled my mind.

Somehow I seemed unable to move of my own accord, so Daddy guided me across the room. With a gentle push my lifeless body flopped onto the bed. I just laid there on my back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Then I felt my Daddy place his big, strong hands onto the swell of my breasts. He started kneading them through my thick sweater. My boobs felt like they were being tickled, but somehow different. Somehow better. It reminded me of the tickle fights we used to play. Oooh, I hope he is going to play tickle fight with me again. I would love that.

After some time of playing with my pliable mounds, Daddy slowly undressed me, beginning with my sweater and bra. When he pulled them off my arms just limply slumped back onto the bed. He then removed my sweatpants and panties, revealing that I was completely hairless. I hope he does not think that I am a naughty girl because of that. That would be terrible. I want to be a good girl for him. I want to make him proud.

Being handled by my Daddy like that made me feel so secure and relaxed. There was zero tension in my body. As he handled me this way and that way, my body simply lolled around like a doll. Yes, I would love to be Daddy’s precious little doll. Then he could dress me up all day long, just as he pleases. I would be his princess and he would only pay attention to me.

After he was done, I just laid there, naked, all for my Daddy to see. Even though I could only watch the ceiling, I could feel his eyes roaming all over my slim frame. Then he touched my bare skin, his hands gliding along my flat tummy. He soon found his way back to my boobs, squeezing them thoroughly, and even sucking on my rosy little nipples. I had been afraid that Daddy would not love me anymore now that I am a grown woman. But it made me happy to see that he still loved me after all those years.

Being loved by my Daddy like that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I even felt all tingly down there. Somehow my Daddy noticed that, too, because he began to slowly rub me between my legs. All the excitement made me really slippery.

Suddenly, he got up. “No, Daddy,” I thought. “Don’t leave me. Please stay.” I was relieved when I felt him gently part my legs, which meant that he was still here.

Then—slowly—he … “Oh, yes, Daddy,” I cried inside my head. “I can feel you, Daddy. I can feel you inside of me.” Having Daddy show his love to me like that filled me with pure joy. Normally, I would have at least gasped or covered my eyes, but this time I simply laid there and did not make a noise. I wanted to show him my best behavior. He always taught me not to interrupt grown-ups when they are busy.

There was not even a single peep coming out of my mouth. My Daddy, though, made all sorts of funny noises. I guess showing your daughter how much you love her must be really tiring. But his hard work made me feel all good inside. And then my tummy felt really warm.

Poor Daddy, he must be really exhausted, because he collapsed right next to me. But even then he only seemed to think of me, because he gently caressed my face and played with my hair.

“Oh, Claire,” he sighed. “Why did you grow up so fast? And when did you become so mature? Where did my innocent little girl go?” “But I am right here, Daddy” I tried to say, but these words never escaped my lips. “I never left.” Maybe he cannot see that, because I’ve been such a terrible daughter to him. Alright, starting tomorrow I have to show Daddy that I am still a good girl.

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The next morning I felt great, like really well-rested. When I rummaged through my closet, looking for something to wear, I came across an old spaghetti strap top that I had not worn in ages. I actually had it since before my latest “growth spurt”, so it was just this tiny black thing. As I was holding it in my hands I felt the urge to just put it on.

Wearing it, I realized that it exposed my mid-riff, because there simply was not enough material to cover both my belly and my enormous chest. It clung so tightly to my body, it felt like I was wearing a second skin. I was stretching this little piece of fabric to its limit, it could have teared any moment. But somehow, wearing it felt just right.

I threw on a black pair of yoga pants and then gave myself a quick lookover in the mirror. I was all black, as usual. Except for my eyes, they were piercing blue. I always thought that they were the best part about myself. They even had a ring around the edge of my iris, which really made them pop.

Looking down I saw that my cleavage was on full display. That top really did not hide anything. I know I usually do not dress all that modestly, but damn, my boobs did look hot today. I bit my lip and gave the girls an appreciative squeeze. They were so soft and squishy that the flesh of my tits bulged out the second I ever so lightly pressed on them. Somehow I was getting a bit heated.

I managed to tear myself away from my boobs and turned around for a final inspection. Those yoga pants really showed off my tight little butt. It might not have been as big as my boobs, but it was still really cute.

I was all ready and set to attend my classes for the day, when, on my way out, I bumped into my Dad. “Hey, Dad,“ I said in a chipper mood. “Good morning, Claire Bear.” He looked me up and down and then gave me a strange smirk. “What?” I said with a quizzical look. “Do I have something on my face?” “No, it’s nothing,” he said shaking his head. “That was weird,” I thought. “It’s not like he hasn’t seen his own daughter before.” But at least he smelled better than usual.

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All day long people kept looking at me funny. In the past, I would not mind, but today it really bothered me. It reminded me of how my Dad used to look at me the last few years. Although I did not mind him this morning. Somehow I liked it. It made me feel reassured and confident. Like it did when I was a kid.

For the rest of the day I could not stop thinking about my Dad. I wondered why we ever grew apart. Maybe there was a way for us to reconnect. Maybe, if I took the first step and tried being nice to him, then we could start over again.

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In the evening I finally came home after a long, hard day of studying. Even though I wasn’t doing any physical labour, I still felt really grimy. I immediately hopped into a steaming hot show, where the water quickly washed away all my worries. I took my time lathering up as I enjoyed rinsing every nook and cranny of my body, giving it a nice, slick coat of soapy water.

Suddenly, someone ripped the shower curtain open. There stood my Dad, butt-naked and with a huge grin on his face. I instinctively covered my chest and my privates. I was about to scream when there was this ringing in my ears again. My arms dropped to my sides and dangled there limply. Why was I getting so upset? It is perfectly normal for my Daddy to see me naked. I mean, he has seen me like that since the day I was born. Also, there was nothing wrong for a daughter to see her father like that either, especially if he was as handsome as mine. Somehow, like yesterday, I could not move or say anything. It must have been because I was filled with so much joy seing my Daddy. I felt like a doll again. My Daddy’s doll.

He got in the shower with me and closed the curtains. When he embraced me, my boobs squished against his manly chest. I could feel his big, strong hands roaming all over my butt, firmly squeezing my cheeks. And then, as he kissed me tenderly, I melted in his arms. I was all his.

When my knees started to get weak, my Daddy turned me around, gave me a big hug from behind, and began kissing my neck. He felt so big as he was pressing into my backside. My Daddy must be the biggest in the whole wide world.

His hands struggled to get a hold of my slippery breasts. Every time he tried to squeeze them too tightly they escaped his grasp like two greasy little piggies.

He then bent me over, grabbed my hips, and made us become one again. With his strong grip around my wrists he started to show how much he loved me. My boobs jiggled wildly to the rhythm of our love. I never knew how much I love being used by my Daddy, like I was his own little toy.

Like yesterday, he made some funny grunting noises and then I could feel his love spread deep inside of me. At that moment I knew that we were going to be fine, that I could finally trust my Daddy again.

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For the next couple of weeks college was kicking my ass. My hair even started showing my blonde roots, since I did not have the time to dye them. Besides, I somehow felt like going back to my natural hair color, anyway. I spent all my time either at college, at home studying, or spending time with my Dad. We somehow slowly rekindled our relationship, even going so far as to hug or kiss each other on the cheek practically every day. Every time I left the house I made sure to tell him that I loved him. And he always told me that he loved me as well. I felt really blessed that we were back to our old ways.

One weekend I was still up late at night studying in my PJs. Well, calling it PJs was a bit much. It was actually just a tight, short-sleeve shirt and a pair of hot pants. I had to prepare for an upcoming test, although I had a hard time concentrating. There was a huge thunderstorm raging outside, which made me feel really queasy. It reminded me of the day my mother died.

Eventually, I decided to call it quits, since I could not keep my thoughts straight. I did not want to be alone at that moment, so I got up and sought out some company. Wandering through the house I found my Dad sitting on the living room couch, watching TV.

“D-Dad,” I said timidly. “Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?” “Sure, sweety,” he said patting the place right next to him. “Make yourself comfortable.” I sat down, hugging my legs and resting my chin on my knees.

We spent a while just silently sitting next to each other. The TV barely covered the sound of the weather. Suddenly, a lightning strike lit up the entire living room, and then the power went out. A second later the deafening sound of thunder came crashing down on my ears. I cowered at the noise. Instinctively I threw myself against my Dad, tightly wrapping my arms around his waist. I nuzzled my face against his chest as I whimpered with fear. In response, he gave me a firm hug.

“There, there,” he whispered reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Daddy is here for you.” He gently stroked my head with one hand, while the other slowly found its way onto my butt. His manly smell was so intoxicating. I could even feel my nipples poking through my shirt. He must have felt it, too.

His hand slowly slid up along the side of my body until it reached my chest. Arriving there he cupped one off my boobs and gave it a gentle squeeze. “D-Dad, w-what are you doing?” I whimpered. “Ssshhhh, relax, Claire. Daddy, is going to make you feel all better.” I looked up at him with my big doe-eyes and nodded silently, my vision blurry from my tears. He gently laid me down onto the couch. Then he kissed me while at the same time fondling my chest.

He took a short break from kissing me to take off my shirt. I helped him along by lifting my arms. And while he hastily took off his own clothes, I slowly removed my tiny pair of pants. I really enjoyed how they were gliding along my smooth legs.

There we were. Just a father and his daughter. Naked as the day they were born. I blushed because of the way my Daddy looked at me. With just his eyes he told me how much he loved and wanted me. And I responded in kind, telling him how much I needed him. Inside of me.

I yelped, when, without a warning, he grabbed my waist and threw me around the couch. His display of strength and dominance made me ooze instantly. I landed face-first on the couch with my butt sticking up high in the air. Then he firmly grabbed my hips. I gasped as I felt him insert his thick meat into my creamy hole.

With every thrust my face smushed further and further into the cushions. It felt like his enormous girth was splitting me in half. Feeling him pump inside of me was the most intensly magical sensation I had ever felt in my life. It was so overwhelming, I almost blacked out.

“Oh, yes. Daddy!” I screamed. “Harder! Harder!”. My exclamation must have sent him over the edge, as I first felt a pulse rushing through his errection and then he suddenly exploded, coating my insides with his sticky goo. My body responded with several shockwaves, making me tremble and roar with pleasure. I clamped down on him, milking his shaft for every drop of his seed. My greedy hole made sure to swallow it all, being careful not to spill any of it.

For a while, we just laid there, sweaty and out of breath. After recovering a bit, I snuggled up against him so that his strong arms could embrace me. Then we shared a deep, loving kiss. At that moment I never wanted to be separated from my Daddy ever again.

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Over the last several months the relationship between me and my Daddy has gotten better than I could have ever imagined. We now show how much we love each other every day so that we will never grow apart again. And that ringing that I used to hear almost every time we made love is now completely gone.

I am even back to my natural hair color. Although I had to cut it a bit short to get rid of all the residual dye. Which is a bummer since I love it when he pulls on my pigtails.

We are just like we were back when I was a kid. Except: we are much closer now. Closer than we ever had been before. Closer than any father and daughter ever will be. But one thing will never change: I will always be my Daddy’s girl … until the end.